Page 97 of Match Point

“Don’t do that,” she snapped, face full of rage. “Don’t lie to me, or make excuses. You were an asshole.”

“And what of deGrom?” I shot back. “Bringing up the Academy. Reminding everyone that I was smaller than the rest.”

“He only brought that up so he could compliment you,” she said. “Pointing out how much harder you worked than everyone else. He was trying to be nice.”

I leaned in close enough to smell the vodka on her breath. “Now who is lying, Miranda?”

“I don’t want to be with this version of you,” she whispered. “You have a decision to make, and you have until the end of the tournament. Cast aside all your armor and be therealGabriel… or I’ll never believe you can take it off.”

She stormed back inside, heels clicking on the marble entranceway. All the victory I felt from the previous interaction turned sour in my mouth.

“Sir?” my driver said, opening the passenger door a few feet away. “Sir, we’re ready to go.”

I got into the car and hardened my resolve. I would win the US Open, complete my calendar grand slam, and prove all of them wrong.

Even if it meant losing Miranda in the process.

48

Miranda

The atmosphere at the US Open was electric as I arrived for the first day of matches. They were calling for rain later in the week, but today the sky was a vibrant shade of blue in every direction. I was an even bigger celebrity here than at the other tournaments, and made sure to arrive an hour early to account for all the selfies and autographs along the way.

“I never get sick of the fans here,” I said when I reached the NBC broadcast booth in Arthur Ashe Stadium. “You would think I’d reach my limit after fifty or sixty selfies, but no! I can’t get enough. I would stay out there signing autographs all day if it paid well.”

My producer came over to me. “Miranda. I wanted to discuss the rumors of you coaching one of the players…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I muttered. “I consulted with Tristan Carfrae for the three weeks leading up to the US Open. It’s over now. I don’t understand why everyone keeps harping on this.”

“Because it’s important. You have to be a neutral commentator.”

“This is a tennis tournament, not a political debate,” I argued. “Are you sure this isn’t about thepersonalrelationship between Tristan and myself?”

“I went to bat for you during that fiasco,” he replied. “I don’t care about your personal life, Miranda. But coaching is different. It means you’re less impartial in the booth. You might not point out certain weaknesses, and you might act too favorably toward him.”

“I promise you I can be professional. And if it’s such a problem, you can remove me from any matches involving Tristan himself.”

“That shouldn’t be necessary.” He pointed a finger at me. “As long as you aren’t coaching him during the tournament.”

“I already said I wasn’t. Can we get on with it, now?”

He returned to his little section of the booth, so I went to my spot down by the window and put on my headset. My partner was already in his seat, and glanced over at me when I sat down.

“Hi, I’m John,” he said, extending his hand.

“I know who you are,” I replied. This was John freaking McEnroe! “You’re famous.”

“I should say the same about you. The great Miranda Jacobs has more grand slam wins than I do.” He lowered his voice. “You’re a popular face in the sport right now, even in retirement. They need you more than you need them. Don’t let the fuckers push you around.”

“I’ll try not to,” I said with a smile.

The first match we were broadcasting was Gabriel Moreau versus Alexander Provemkin, an unranked player from Belarus. I couldn’t help but wonder what my producer would think about my impartiality if he knew I was sleeping with the French player.

As the match began, I couldn’t put aside my annoyance at Gabriel’s behavior last night. I had hoped he could find a way to get along with Tristan and Dominic, but that was increasingly looking impossible. And if he couldn’t do something that simple, then what were the odds he could change his overall attitude?

What was I going to do long-term if they hated each other?

I knew I couldn’t think about that right now, so I tried focusing on the match. But it wasn’t easy.

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